


Bedtime Routines

by Ladderofyears



Series: Family [2]
Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Healer! Scorpius, M/M, POV Scorpius Malfoy, Parenthood, Scorpius is Far Better at Parenting than He Thinks He Is!, Stay-At-Home Parent Albus Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 14:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18074807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: Watching Albus put their one-year old daughter Willow to bed, Scorpius realises just how attractive he finds this domestic incarnation of his husband.





	Bedtime Routines

As Scorpius watched his husband and daughter, he was thankful the pop of the apparition hadn’t given away his presence. 

It was a rare gift to see Albus talking care of Willow alone like this, and he bit his lip to avoid a calling out a greeting. _Just a few more seconds_ , he reasoned, _and then he’d say hello. Make himself known_.

Had Albus have realised he was there, Scorpius knew he’d have stood up in seconds, pressed a kiss onto his lips and made offerings of Earl Grey tea. Then Albus would be asking about Scorpius’ day, or laughing at the stories Scorpius shared about his day at the hospital.

But Scorpius didn’t care for any of that. Not yet, anyway. All he wanted, right now, was to watch his husband while he took such wonderful care of their one year old daughter. 

He could see Al’s battered copy of _Beedle the Bard_ abandoned at their side, which made Scorpius’ smile even wider. Willow was far too young for those particular tales yet, but Albus would insist on reading them repeatedly, claiming something about it being _a critical part of wizarding culture?_ The truth was, Albus insisted on reading them because he remembered, and loved them, from his own childhood growing up in Ottery St Catchpole. 

He could see they’d been playing with the toy cauldron too, making potions with coloured water and the wooden bat-wings, mandrakes and mushroom shapes that fit inside the toy. With a flick of his wand, Albus would often make Willow’s play-potions bubble, steam and change colour, making her really _feel_ like the witch she’d grow up to become. And though her Wizard Wheezes toy wand could only make a few coloured lights Willow loved it, babbling her spells and enchantments while she waved it jubilantly. 

And right now, Scorpius watched as Albus peppered kisses and raspberries all over his daughters cheeks. 

Willow squirmed, and giggled under Albus’ attentions. She made a raspberry mouth, and tried valiantly to get her daddy right back, but he was far too fast for her. Reaching out a hand, their little girl tried to pat his cheeks instead, but Albus got hold of her fingers. Lips over his teeth, Albus nibbled at them, his eyes wide comically wide as he made _non-nom-nom_ noises, pretending they were delicious.

Their baby laughed even harder at that, her plump face pink and shiny, and her legs kicking in uncontrolled mirth. And with that, Scorpius couldn’t help joining the fun, with Willow’s squeal of joy when she saw him _quite_ the most delightful noise he had heard all day. 

Minutes later, and all three of them were lay prone on their backs on the living room rug. Scorpius _accio’ed_ some blankets and wrapped himself and his daughter tightly within them. It was time for part of their night-time routine that Willow loved most of all: the magical light show that Albus created each night with his wand. This was their unique family tradition, and had grown to become an incredibly important ritual for all three of them. 

Scorpius thought that either he or Albus must have cast this spell nearly everyday since they brought Willow home from St. Mungos, the rolling, tumbling lights making his daughter feel both awed and safe. 

An aurora of every colour filled their room, dancing over every surface.

If he focussed his magic, Albus could made the lights form the outlines of people dancing, or even a hare bounding through a field of grass. This was powerful, compelling domestic magic, and Scorpius felt the stresses and anxieties of his day start to slip away, replaced as they always were with the tidal wave of love that he felt for his family. 

The last of the colours faded, and the three of them lay knitted together, warm under the blanket: a tangle of limbs, giggles and utter happiness. 

Next, Albus moved onto singing Willow’s best-loved song, a nursery rhyme which he had made up just for her. Scorpius watched reverentially as his husband swayed their baby gently in his arms, his voice growing softer with each line. Scorpius privately felt the lyrics were really quite suspect, relying _heavily_ as they did on the rhyming of _Willow the Witch, Quidditch Pitch_ , and _catching the Snitch_ , but he wasn't about to complain. The words _did_ seem to be a magical incantation which transported Willow to sleep each night, and Scorpius could see that they’d worked their sorcery once more. 

As he watched, Willow’s giggles subsided and her eyelids grew heavier. Scorpius only wished he could have got home earlier, and spent more time with her before she fell asleep.

He did try his very best to be a part of Willow’s evening routine, and made every effort to get home to help with her dinner and bath as often as he could. Life at the hospital was often very unpredictable, and more often than not, Albus had to put in the work. _Although_ , he reflected, looking at his daughters downy head nestled snugly in his husband’s arms, _maybe that wasn’t without its rewards._

And the truth was, Scorpius knew that fatherhood suited Albus. He was naturally so much more adept at making up silly rhymes, at telling stories and just _existing_ around their daughter, attuned as he was to all of her needs. 

Of course, Scorpius adored Willow, but Scorpius also knew that, for him, fatherhood was something he needed to work on. 

Unlike Albus, he’d been a child with no brothers or sisters, nor any cousins that he saw with any regularly. He’d not really associated with any children of his own age either. Even his father’s closest friends had been reluctant to let their children play with him, whilst those vile rumours still circulated about his parentage.

Truthfully, before their meeting on the train, Scorpius hadn’t really had anybody whom he could truly call a friend. 

And yes, they’d had animals at the Manor whilst he grew up; goats and lambs that he’d fed bottles to whilst his mum looked on with an indulgent smile. There’d been a succession of Crups and Kneazles that filled his rooms as he grew, too. But then, they’d also had a battalion of Elves who would stay up when the animals were sick and clean away any offending messes. Scorpius knew himself well enough to understand he enjoyed being a fastidious, organised and disciplined person, so the very idea of a messy, anarchic child, reliant on them for everything had been simply terrifying. 

Albus, however, had taken the massive changes this tiny person had wrought on their lives in his stride. And though Albus would claim to the world that Scorpius was the empathetic one in their relationship, Scorpius knew the truth: that his husband really _did_ have endless reserves of love and patience when it came to the people in the world he loved the most. 

Scorpius smiled at the sentimental turn his thoughts had taken while he watched his family. 

Their baby was asleep in Albus’ arms, and he was awed once again at his husbands patience with her. Nobody who had known the stubborn, taciturn man that Al had been at Hogwarts could ever believed he’d have such endless reserves of affection and the truly _nurturing_ nature that he demonstrated with Willow every single day. 

///

Now began the nerve-racking task of moving Willow to her cot. Albus slid her carefully onto the mattress, while Scorpius held up the quilt. 

They’d tried all the wizarding tricks when they first brought her home: a levitating basket, blankets that were charmed to warm if the room got cold. Scorpius had even tried enchanting her curtains to stay dark so she’d get a good nights sleep. None of these tricks had worked, and both men had realised quickly that traditional, Muggle methods were the best. Willow could recognise the signature of their magic surrounding her, and all it did was made her want them more. Often, she’d cry out in minutes. Tonight, however, their baby seemed settled and contented.

And, quite honestly, the way they slowly moved away, an inch at a time, reminded Scorpius forcefully of those bloody Blast-Ended Skrewts that he’d last seem at Hogwarts, their movements exaggeratedly careful, backing away centimetres at a time. 

Really, they’d be laughing at themselves if they didn’t both take this so seriously. 

Both men stood beside her cot, peering through the faint light of Scorpius’ _Lumos_ spell, waiting with baited breath to see if she’d stir. In the wandlight, Willow’s face was soft and utterly relaxed. When he spied her long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and the tiniest of signs escapes from her mouth, Scorpius was satisfied that Willow had drifting off to sleep (and, fingers crossed, for a good few hours). 

Just before they made their way out of the room, Scorpius murmured a few words, some lines from a traditional French enchantment that his mum always used to sing to him before he’d go to sleep. Maybe he was being a bit irrational, but he knew he’d never settle if he didn’t say the words.

He knew his mum would have been as enraptured by their daughter as he is, but at these moments Scorpius truly believed that his mum was there with Willow, looking after her until she needed Albus and him once again. 

It seemed their job was done. 

Their daughter was secure in her cot, fast asleep and Scorpius has said his enchantment. He cast a _Nox_ , whilst both men backed out of the room as quickly and as quietly as they could. 

///

Returning to their lounge, Scorpius kissed Albus and what pure pleasure it was.

Scorpius knew it was a privilege to married to Albus; this delightful, wonderful man who looked after their Willow so beautifully. 

As they kissed, Scorpius could feel the rough of Al’s chin rasping against his own, a sure mark of a day that had been far too busy for shaving. He could smell the scent of Willow’s apple shampoo where Albus had bathed with their daughter, and spy tell-tale smudges of poster-paint on the knuckles of his husband’s fingers. 

And underneath his, Scorpius could feel the give of Al’s lips, and the way that his mouth was opening, eagerly into their kiss. Scorpius knew Albus was smiling, his mouth beneath his own, and he thrilled at the way his husband’s tongue darted against his, teasing and tickling at the sides of his mouth. Unable to resist, Scorpius found himself grinning joyfully, the sides of his lips quirking up in response to Albus’ smile. 

He widened his eyes at that, just in time to see Albus’ sea-glass green eyes flicker open too. It felt wonderful to meet his husbands gaze, and know how much they were _sharing_ in that moment; all that love, warmth, and such pure affection. 

“Scor!” Albus laughed, as he pulled away from the kiss. His face was a bit flushed, and he was panting slightly, overcome with the sheer arousal of the kiss. “ _What on earth?_ … I’m hardly looking very beautiful today-”

But Scorpius had to disagree. 

Yes, Albus was wearing tracksuit bottoms that were positively ratty, and a tee shirt that bore a faded Harpies logo. He had lines under his eyes, and hair that badly needed a cut, but Scorpius didn’t believe that he’d ever seen him looking quite as radiant, or as attractive, as he did right then. 

“You’re stunning” Scorpius rasped, stroking a fingertip line down his husband’s cheek. “Merlin, you’ve no idea how good you look… I just love watching you with Willow. How much you love her… How good, how patient you are. That stupid _Snitch_ song. Your _Aurora_. It’s just… It makes me feel-” 

Albus broke off his rambling with a kiss, giggling at this uncharacteristically inarticulate Scorpius. 

And Scorpius knew how delightfully preposterous he was being right at that moment, but really, he couldn’t help himself. It wasn’t as if Albus was doing anything special, or anything out of the ordinary. Al was just a regular new dad, trying the very best he could. But Scorpius couldn’t help himself.

He was beguiled, and incredibly infatuated, by this new incarnation of his husband, this person who took such wonderful care of their child. Scorpius just loved Albus. He’d loved him since the day they’d shared their sweets on the Hogwarts Express, and known they were soulmates everyday since. 

And yes part of that was that he’d always fancied him rotten. Scorpius could still get hard just thinking about the way his husband’s body fit together, about the curve of his arse next to his in the shower or the soft plains of his skin. Merlin, the very _idea_ of Al’s thighs wrapped around his hips was still enough to make his stomach flip over with the memory of pleasure. 

But, ultimately that wasn’t why Scorpius had made their marriage bond. Why he’d stood there, hands clasped with Albus and promised to _love and cherish him till the end of his life._

Scorpius had fallen in love because of who Albus was _everyday_. The way he insisted on growing their own vegetables without any magic and then proudly cooked even the most misshapen ones. The way he read aloud whenever a paragraph took his interest. The fact that Albus learnt to dance just for their wedding had always made his heart shudder with happiness, and sometimes Al hummed Muggle pop songs when he was working, not even realising he was doing it. Albus got dimples when he was pleased, and frown lines when things didn’t go as he’d planned. Scorpius loved him for everything he was, and everything he ever would be. 

And now Albus looked after their baby so selflessly and patiently, and Scorpius loved him for that, too. 

///

Scorpius leant over, and tilted Al’s chin up towards his own, his heart beating swiftly in his chest. 

When Albus’ lips met with his, the touch was lighter than air, a mere shadow of their earlier kiss. His other hand drifted into his husband’s knotty black hair, and pulled lightly on the stands twisted around his fingers. Albus gave a hum of pleasure, so Scorpius did it once, twice more, each time deepening their kiss. 

Beneath his, Al’s mouth was warm and pliable, and nipped lightly at Scorpius’ own, until his husband suddenly pressed his mouth fully against his own. Albus pushed his tongue inside and with took absolute possession of all of Scorpius’ senses. And Scorpius felt the reservoirs of familiarity and arousal that had built during the last hour just _break open_ , flooding his consciousness. Seizing Albus by the arm, he side-apparated them both to their bedroom, landing them on their bed with in an inelegant, heated embrace. 

Scorpius knew that Willow usually slept for at least a couple of hours once she was settled, and he couldn’t bear to waste even one more minute.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading xxx


End file.
